


halone gifts the good along with the ill

by noahfronsenburg



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, post-sigmascape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 17:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14218116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahfronsenburg/pseuds/noahfronsenburg
Summary: Now Nero was finally starting to notice Keian and he’d almost died.





	halone gifts the good along with the ill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [14kuponuts](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=14kuponuts).



> for keia this time! the req was for keian + nero interacting between levels in sigmascape, so that's this!

The Garlond Ironworks was kept open by three things: a general lack of survival skills on the parts of everyone involved, a constant influx of natural and engineered disasters, and coffee. A _lot_ of coffee. A truly astonishing amount of coffee. Almost so much it was a little bit frightening.

Which was why, after a truly foundation-shaking argument between the head engineers, someone had been called in to do an extremely vital job: providing a constant watersource for the thermocoil boilmaster, lest another fight of unnatural proportions escalate and possibly end in a murder.

Keian had not even let Jessie finish her sentence before he’d volunteered for the job.

 

 

However, there had been a very slight possibility that he had...miscalculated. The extent of this job. He’d expected to have to refill the kettle maybe hourly, but instead he was racing around once or twice an hour. Maybe it was just that Cid and Nero really _did_ drink that much coffee (although the Warrior of Light And Companions didn’t help matters much, needing energy between the fights that Omega threw out) or maybe it was that Nero had to somehow one-up Cid with coffee. Which didn’t seem good for his heart.

And that was how it all really...started. “You should not drink more than four cups of coffee in a single sun,” Keian said, after Nero handed the now-empty kettle back to him. Nero stared at him. He avoided saying _I worry about you_ , and changed tack a little. “After all, you surely cannot get nearly as much work done if you are running to the privy every fifteen minutes. Master Garlond is going to figure this mess out before you do, Sir.”

Nero narrowed his eyes, but he was staring at Keian intensely. Like he’d made a valid point. Slowly, he took a long sip of his coffee, thinking it through. He didn’t say anything, but after a solid minute and a half of staring at Keian, he turned away. “Refill that,” Nero said, and returned to his work station.

Nero reduced by one cup a sun. To a reasonable maximum of _five_ cups. Which was a little bit better. Keian considered it a win, since it was technically less than before.

 

 

At first, Nero had been...less than enthusiastic to see that he was going to be working with Keian as his immediate coffee-lackey subordinate. Keian had been, initially, less than enthusiastic that the job he’d gotten, finally within _please notice me_ distance of Nero was getting the other man coffee, but as it turned out, it was the ideal job. Once they had both settled into their new relationship, it blossomed.

Sort of.

(Good enough.)

And then Nero almost got gutted by Omega, and was dumped on bed-rest and on a _highly_ restricted diet. The thermocoil boilmaster was returned to Cid’s office, and without Nero trying to prove that he could stop his heart with caffeine faster, Keian only had to refill it about twice a sun, if that.

Cid caught him moping a sennight in. “You’ve been looking out of sorts,” Cid said, as Keian unhooked the kettle from its ceruleum base, coiled up the cord for it and tucked it under his arm. “Are you worried about Nero?”

Keian shrugged. “Rather,” he admitted, settling the kettle in his arms. He was strong enough to lift it with ease, but not tall enough that it wasn’t awkwardly oversized in his arms. “All these years I have been trying to get his attention, and just when he began to see me for myself, he nearly died.” As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was starting to feel a little bit like maybe any sort of relationship between the two of them was cursed from the get-go. First, Nero had seen him as just another Eorzean to make into a smear on the ground; then an annoyance. Now he was finally starting to notice Keian and he’d almost died.

Nothing much said _cursed_ more than that. Keian was starting to wonder if Halone had painted a gigantic target on his back that said _please kick me while I am down_.

“He’s doing much better,” Cid said, clapping Keian on the back. “You should go see him. I think you’d be surprised to find just how much he would appreciate the company. You know Nero—he’s been awake less than a sennight and he’s already bored and restless. Go give him something to turn his attention to. He’d never say as much, but he likes you. It could do him some good.” Keian didn’t agree with Cid, because he didn’t want to _immediately_ be let down so low that he’d feel, emotionally, like he had fallen into Witchdrop, but he did shrug.

And he did, actually, go see Nero. It took him two more suns to gather the courage, and then he prayed fervently to Halone, girded his loins, and walked straight through the infirmary to Nero’s small enclosed bed.

Keian popped his head around the edge of the hanging cloth doorway. “Excuse me,” he said. Nero was awake, albeit groggy, and it took him a moment to sit up to see who it was. “Are you well enough for a visitor, Sir?”

For a moment, Nero seemed to hesitate, chewing over his options. Then, after Keian had belatedly realized he was holding his breath, the other man waved a hand limply.

“Why not,” he said. “You’ll just mope about outside like a kicked coeurl if I say no. Did Garlond send you to lift my spirits?”

Keian came and sat at the chair pulled to his bedside. “Somewhat,” he admitted. “But I truly did just want to see you. You look much better.” Nero snorted, but it was true. He wasn’t the color of a crap bow of porridge any longer, and his eyes were less sunken. “How are you feeling?”

“You ever been run over by a chocobo?” Nero asked.

“No, I...have not. Had that experience.”

“I do not recommend it.” Nero sighed, relaxed slightly, his body slumping into his pillows. He was picking idly at the sheet over his lap, and his shirt was loose enough that Keian could see the heavy bandaging criss-crossing his chest. He flushed every time he glanced down Nero’s shirt, so he settled for resolutely staring at the wall instead.

The silence stretched long and awkward, until Keian cleared his throat. “Master Garlond said that you were bored.”

“I am.”

Deep breath. Be brave. Keian straightened his shoulders. “With things calm again, Sir, I wanted to offer you my services.” Oh, that was poor wording. He backpedalled immediately. “Er—that is, I am still an Ironworks employee, but with things so calm I have found myself with significant free time, and I thought, if it would be beneficial to your recovery, that I could perhaps procure you any items that might alleviate some of that excess energy so that you could devote your attention to healing.”

He chanced a glance up, and found, of all things Nero was smiling at him. It was a good look on his face; a lopsided, tired grin. It softened the sides of his eyes, and it made his stubble catch the light. His eyes were warm with affection and mirth, and Keian _immediately_ started to regret having opened his mouth. He was about to just blurt that he would go and escape with his self esteem intact, when Nero coughed.

Keian was halfway out of his chair to run for a chirurgeon when Nero held up a hand, forestalling him. He coughed for longer than seemed healthy, but there was no blood flecking his hand when he pulled it away from his mouth. “You know you get more formal when you’re embarrassed?”

“I have been told that,” Keian felt increasingly awkward. He was flushing so hard he could feel it burning beneath the fur of his ears, and his tail was probably a little bit puffed, so he tucked it closer underneath the legs of the chair to hide it.

“If I have to sit in this bed doing nothing for five more minutes I will go mad and possibly kill Garlond. I’ll take you up on your offer.” Keian stared at Nero so hard he was pretty sure his eyes were about to fall out of his skull. “Do you have something to write a list down on? I’ve been thinking for some time of improving the self-filling pen mechanism reservoir to maintain longer writing times without having to deal with all that damn loose ink, and...”

Keian was already scrambling for a stick of charcoal and some paper, because once Nero got started on an idea, he wouldn’t stop until the whole thing was out of his mouth, and there was no chance he’d be able to retain all this information at any one time.

 

 

The next morning, Jessie handed him a contract. “You’ve been promoted,” she said, as he stared at her. “Assistant to the Second Engineer.”

Well, at least if he went out into the Fringes and yelled excitedly at some gaganas, there would be nobody there but the gaganas to judge him.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr/twitter @jonphaedrus


End file.
